


How To Score

by FangQueen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, HP: EWE, M/M, Quidditch, Semi-Public Sex, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangQueen/pseuds/FangQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know how long I’ve waited to do that?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Score

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LRThunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LRThunder/gifts).



> This fic was written for [(Don't Get Your) Wand in a Knot](http://wand-in-a-knot.livejournal.com/)\--a 24 hour HP porn tag challenge on LJ!
> 
> Finished this as quick as I could tonight because I knew I'd have absolutely no time at all to work on it tomorrow! First of all, a BIG thank you to lrthunder for the prompt: “Better late than never.” I was so scared of being caught completely off guard when I finally got tagged that I’d had this pairing and scenario in the back of my mind from the beginning, and I’m so glad the prompt ended up fitting perfectly! And all the love to my wonderful beta: my fiance, Sean. Thank you for putting up with all of my craziness.

“Oh Merlin…”

Draco Malfoy was possibly one of the sexiest men to walk this earth. In Oliver Wood’s opinion, anyway. At school, he’d been a kid, of course; far too young for the Scotsman to give him a second look without immediately feeling like a pervert. But now...Well, he’d been practically salivating over his very presence since the moment he’d first walked into the Puddlemere locker room, preceding the announcement that he’d been traded from the Tornados and would be replacing the chaser they’d recently lost. That was three years ago, and it was a mystery even to him how he’d managed to hold out for so long.

“Fuck, you feel _amazing_ …”

The former Gryffindor was nothing if not ambitious. When he wanted something, he went after it, with every fibre of his being. But he also loved Quidditch, and therefore his career, and dating someone on the same team just wasn’t done. What if something happened? They had a crazy row? Broke up, even? If one or the other couldn’t play through it, it could compromise their ranking. But Draco had this swagger about him that oozed confidence and an unrivaled sensuality. It was all Oliver could do for months on end not to die from blue balls whenever he watched him perform his pre-practice jog around the pitch in those itty bitty track shorts, or when he saw the way his face lit up when he scored, or if he caught sight of him in the showers after a match. He frequently thanked the Quidditch gods who’d seen fit to have Draco’s previous team discover he was a far better chaser than he ever was a seeker. That meant more strength training was needed, which gave him that deliciously toned form that made Oliver go weak in the knees. Yet, there was _so_ much more to him; get him to open up just a smidge, and it would be plain to see, the numerous insecurities and unrequited hopes and dreams. Sure, he was an ex-Death Eater, a right prat by Harry and the Weasleys’ standards, but did any of that really matter anymore? He’d renounced his former ties. And truth be told, when one got past the lingering remnants of Pompous Pureblood Elitist, he was actually fun to hang out with. Great for talking game strategy, getting drinks with, and the rare times when he really smiled, it was one of the most sincere and warm gestures Oliver had ever witnessed.

“Mmm. You like that?”

They’d won today. Positively _trounced_ the Cannons, but that should’ve been no surprise. They were all in the locker room, stripping out of their leathers, still hyped and laughing and rough-housing like they tended to do on those days. Oliver was flying high off their victory--the captain in him hadn’t changed much since Hogwarts, in that regard. At one point, he’d turned to see Draco--shirtless, beaming, flushed a gorgeous shade of scarlet from the physical exertion--and he thought: _Fuck it_. All this time wasted, all this useless pining: fuck it. He’d barely waited till the last guy had left before he approached him. By some miracle, Draco had stayed behind as well. Right then and there, with both of them wearing nothing but their briefs, Oliver had dove headlong into one of those energetic speeches he was famous for, confessing everything from how he’d been infatuated with him since the beginning up to how he’d take him against the wall that very second if given the chance.

“Ah! Yes, right there!”

Somehow, the blonde was still standing there at the end with that coy smirk on his face. Obviously, he’d made his half-hearted arguments of “But we’re teammates, what if--” and “Someone might have forgotten something, they could come back,” but Oliver knew from his expression that he cared even less than him about any of that. He’d obliged, and that was how the older man had managed to have him bent over in the showers, ramming into him so forcefully that the rhythmic slap of his balls against his backside echoed around them. Every private moment he’d spent fantasizing about this couldn’t even begin to compare. Draco had the uncanny ability to moan like a whore and an angel all at the same time, and how he arched back to meet Oliver’s every thrust had had him curling his toes right from the start. His tight hole squeezing his cock was making him go cross-eyed. He mewled and begged when the keeper found his prostate. Being the quite driven sort of bloke he was, he increased the pace and didn’t let up till he had the little snake screaming his name and coming all over his hand and the tiled wall in front of him. He followed shortly after, releasing harder inside him than he had in ages.

As they allowed the near scalding water to wash them clean, they held each other and kissed languidly, but not with even an ounce less passion than when they’d first turned it on. Oliver was already considering going for another round, and if the way Draco was rutting against the muscular thigh he’d slipped between his legs was any clue, he was likely agree to it.

“You know how long I’ve waited to do that?”

“Better late than never.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments = <3!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://ohlookagaydraco.tumblr.com/) and [LJ](http://fangqueen.livejournal.com/) as well!


End file.
